I used to be certain.
Not just confident or comfortable, but certain in the way only a young person can be when handed a complete system and told it explains everything. I had been taught a theology that divided the world neatly into what was true and what was false. It came with answers for every question that mattered and, more importantly, it came with the assumption that those answers were final.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? It was what I had been given. It felt like truth because it felt like home.
When I listen to people argue about theology now, I often recognize something uncomfortably familiar. I hear the same tone of certainty I once had. I see people defending systems they didn’t build but have fully embraced. They assume their conclusions are objectively true and everything else is objectively wrong.
I understand that mindset because I once lived there.

Thugs attacking private property aren’t anarchists; they’re vandals
Private property ownership is just an illusion in this country today
Be very afraid of men (or women) who question your patriotism
We often value a love only after we’ve carelessly thrown it away
Can I talk myself into not wanting great things I fear I’ll never have?
When we feel we’ve lost control, our behavior stops making sense
Creating work that I’m proud of gives me elusive feelings of joy
No one will really notice except me, but a good friend of mine is dying
I was a terrible preacher, because cookie-cutter truth seemed empty